


Open Up My Eager Eyes

by yeahloads



Series: But In the Morning Light, Your Car's Already Gone [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Cock Rings, Cock Slapping, Complicated Relationships, Dom/sub, Hair-pulling, Infidelity, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 18:31:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11363172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeahloads/pseuds/yeahloads
Summary: “Oh. It’s you.”“Yes, it’s me. You texted me, remember?”“I-- yeah. I just didn’t think you’d actually come by.”Louis wants to ask, "Well why would you have sent that, then"? But instead he says, “Well, are you gonna let me in or what?”A Zourry Threesome: Part 2





	Open Up My Eager Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> So. I ended up writing a second part and it turned out to be more about Feelings than sex, but here it is! Same general warnings as last time, so keep those in mind. I hope everyone likes it!
> 
> For imgod again because she's a hoe for Zourry ♥  
> And thanks to thereignofsoloharry on tumblr for proofreading and cheerleading me through this process ♥

Louis has a hand halfway to his mouth with a pretzel dipped in peanut butter when the sound of the buzzer makes him jump from his spot on the couch. He isn’t expecting anyone, unless someone has pressed the wrong button again, and he’ll have to politely remind them, _No this is not Mr. Penderson, please fuck off and make sure you have the right number next time_. Whoever this Penderson guy is, he’s very sought after, but Louis is sick of dealing with his confused visitors.

The buzzer goes off again and whoever is hitting it is laying on it now, and that’s it, who the--

“What? Who is it?”

“Uhh, hi. It’s, uhm. It’s Harry.”

At the first sound of his voice through the intercom, Louis doesn’t even need to hear the rest, would know that slow loping speech anywhere. He used to know it a lot better, when that voice used to say sweet things to him, tell Louis that he loved him, talk to him about his day. But that was years ago when they were practically still kids.

He’s still surprised, though. They haven’t spoken since the last time they saw each other, when Louis pretty much invited himself back to Harry and Zayn’s flat with them and they all tried to fuck out their frustrations. He very easily could have picked up his phone and sent a text, but he just never did. It seems that Zayn or Harry couldn’t be bothered to either. It’s been almost a year, but Louis isn’t going to dwell on it.

Apparently he takes too long to respond, because Harry hits the buzzer again.

“Jesus, alright. What do you want?”

“Can I come up?”

Instead of saying  _Yeah sure. Of Course,_  like he should, Louis’ initial reaction for anything involving Harry takes over. “Why?” he snaps.

“Jesus Christ, Louis, can you just let me in?”

The echo of a distant double-meaning isn’t lost on Louis.

He lets Harry up; it’s a couple flights of stairs so it gives Louis some time to make himself look effortlessly indifferent on the couch, leaving the door unlocked.

Harry knocks, because of course he does.

“Who is it?” Louis says in a high, trilling voice.

“It’s-” Harry actually starts to answer, but apparently thinks better of it, opening the door and shooting Louis a glare before slamming it, at least by Harry Standards.

Harry hesitates when he walks fully into the room, gauging his surroundings before shuffling over to where Louis is sitting. He looks at the open space next to Louis on the couch and makes like he’s gonna sit there, before he abruptly turns and drops into one of the chairs across the room, blowing air out through his lips and stretching his legs out.

Louis gets a good look at him when Harry finally sits still, can see how tired he looks, skin pale and his hair in need of a wash.

“I don’t know how to break this to you gently, but you look like shit.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Do you ever just, like, shut your mouth? Or do you have to say everything that pops into your fucking head?”

Louis shrugs and shoots back, “Hey, you know what I’m like, but you still came to my flat, mate.”

Louis is actually curious as to how Harry got his address, but he’s more interested in why Harry is here in the first place. Harry has plenty of other friends who would be more inclined to coddle him, if that’s what he’s after.

Harry levels him with a hard stare. That’s a quality of Harry’s that Louis has always liked; Harry bends easy most of the time, but he can keep up with Louis, match him in stubbornness. They used to butt heads a lot, volatile when they weren’t otherwise being blinded by infatuation, but they were at least on relatively equal ground when they clashed.

“Seriously, you look like you haven’t slept in a month. What, is there trouble in paradise? You and Zaynie can’t agree on what color curtains to hang?”

That gets a real reaction out of Harry. It breaks the hard mask that he’s been trying to keep on, face twisting like he’s tasted something sour. Louis can’t believe that he hit it so soon and so accurately, can tell just by Harry’s face that it was the exact Wrong Thing to mention. A part of him wants to apologize, try to soften the blow a bit, but the bigger part of him wants to find out what’s going on and what has Harry so upset.

“Don’t,” Harry mumbles, corners of his mouth turning down. He’s pulling at a loose thread on the hem of his shirt, eyes down, and the way his face is angled is amplifying the purple bags underneath them.

“Don’t what?”

Harry looks at him and his eyes are hedging towards pleading.

The thing about Harry is that he’ll fight you kicking and screaming and dragging his feet, act like he doesn’t want to talk about something, when he actually does. He’s a bit of a masochist, and Louis told him as much, back when they would have actual conversations. Harry likes to dance around things, throw hints because he thinks he’s being subtle, until you finally strap him down and force it out of him.

Harry wants to talk; he just wants other people to not only initiate it, but beg for what he has to say, needs the outstanding reassurance that they really want to listen.

“Are you gonna tell me what happened, or are you gonna continue to pretend that I don’t know what you’re doing?”

Harry’s clear green eyes practically flash red. “Are you gonna keep holding shit over my head? Because I-- I used to tell you all my secrets when I was eighteen and didn’t know any better? And now you _still_ think you’re so enlightened on everything about me?”

That’s another thing. Two, actually. Harry doesn’t like when someone has him pinned and especially not when he’s confronted with someone who’s willing to point it out. He also hates that Louis _does_ understand all of his little habits, how he operates. That probably drives Harry more crazy than anything, even after all these years.

Despite the act that he puts on, Louis hates that this is how they interact now. The tension in the room is making him squirmy, but he can’t help but enjoy the rush he gets from being the instigator.

“C’mon. I know you want to tell me. You clearly came here for a reason. Not in the mood to have your hair brushed while you cry on someone’s shoulder?”

“You’re such a prick.”

“You’re still sitting here, aren’t you?”

Harry lets that hang for a second and shakes his head, letting out a short humorless laugh. “He kicked me out.”

Louis must have heard him wrong. “Zayn?”

Harry nods and Louis shakes his head quickly. “He _what_?”

“You heard me.” Harry sounds like he’s getting annoyed, but his voice stays quiet.

“What-- _why_?”

Harry shrugs. “Dunno. He didn’t really give me a clear answer. Just told me that I should call my mum and see if I can stay with her for a while.”

Louis rubs the side of his face with one of his hands. He can’t even bring himself to say anything that might sting. As much as he likes to get Harry going, and has been enjoying doing so for the past few minutes, Harry looks seconds away from tears and Louis doesn’t actually like to see him cry. Louis and Zayn used to fuck around, but they were never serious, but Louis is no stranger to how much of a bastard Zayn can be sometimes.

“Jesus, Harry, I had no idea--”

“No, you just like to to give me a hard time over anything and everything. Always have.” Harry rolls his eyes, either because of what he’s saying or because his eyes are filling and threatening to spill. Probably both.

“Listen, I know you don’t exactly like me anymore either, but I can be civil if I need to be.”

Louis counts it as a small victory, because it gets Harry to laugh even if it’s a little watery.

“Mm. That’s what you think. You’re about as soft as sandpaper,” Harry says, voice thick.

“Now, don’t force me to make a good argument for a nice fine grit.”

Harry shakes his head, but he can’t hide his wobbly smile and it makes Louis smile back. It feels good to joke like this, the lightest they’ve been around each other in a while. The circumstances could be better, but Louis will take what he can get.

Louis doesn’t want to interrogate him if it’s just gonna make him upset, so he grabs the TV remote and flips through the channels until he finds some random romantic comedy, because Harry has always liked them, and he keeps his mouth shut.

Louis watches Harry intermittently, not wanting to be obvious, but also not caring that much when Harry catches him glancing. Harry doesn’t look like he’s on the verge of a breakdown quite as much after a little while, but Louis has the feeling that it wouldn’t take much to tip him in that direction again. Louis usually isn’t one to walk on eggshells for anyone, Harry included, but this feels different.

He never got the chance to be careful and sensitive after things with him and Harry went south because Harry walked away completely. Harry wanted nothing to do with him, and Louis respected that, but he never had to learn how to navigate being around Harry immediately post-breakup, so that when he finally did see him again, he had no idea what the terrain would be like. He never expected that Harry would still feel so strongly after so much time. Harry’s a grudge-holder. Louis just didn’t think he would ever be on the receiving end of one.  

The least Louis can do now is not be a complete dick to Harry when he’s very obviously hurting, give him some space to lick his wounds and recover a bit. He’s still not sure why Harry has come to him, but he’s not in the mood to try and dig that out of Harry.

They’re halfway into a second film when Louis realizes that it’s getting kind of late. Harry looks like he’s about to drop off, head leaning precariously to one side and his chin nearly touching his chest, eyes drooping. Louis considers calling him an Uber, but he’s not sure if Harry has anywhere to go, especially on such short notice and at this hour. It’s likely that Harry could call someone up, snag a spare bed or surf a couch for the night.

Louis doesn’t want to make Harry do that, though. So he makes the decision that Harry should crash here for the night. If he wants to, that is. Harry could just as easily bolt at the suggestion.

When he checks on him again, Harry’s eyes are officially closed, so Louis gets up as quietly as possible and pats him on the arm. “Hey, kid. Get up for a second. You can sleep here, but not in the chair. C’mon.”

Harry grumbles something that Louis can’t make out and sits up a little, rubbing his eyes while his bottom lip juts out like he’s pouting, looking tired and simultaneously too young and too old. Out of sleep, reality must hit him again, shoulders instantly tensing like they’re carrying something heavy, his face going a bit drawn. Harry is looking at him intently, and Louis finds that he can’t hold his gaze, eyes darting away without his permission.

“You can borrow some clothes, if you want. Unless you’re really keen on sleeping in your jeans.”

Louis doesn’t catch Harry’s face as he says it, because he’s pointedly looking at the floor, but Harry doesn’t disagree or get up to leave, so Louis takes that as his cue to go grab Harry some clothes.

He rummages through his drawers, trying to find something appropriate to let Harry borrow. He’s over-thinking things, which he’s trying to force himself not to, but when he comes across a t-shirt that Harry always used to steal, knick it when Louis wasn’t paying attention, only to show up wearing it, usually when he would surprise Louis by already being in his bed, under the covers waiting for when Louis would get back, it makes Louis pause. He considers giving Harry that one, but re-folds in and puts it away, closing that drawer and pulling out plain black tee instead and grabbing some loose joggers.

Harry hasn’t moved from the chair when Louis returns, looking sheepish and a little guilty when Louis hands him the clothes, a blanket, and a pillow, like he’s putting Louis out in some way by crashing here, despite it being Louis’ idea. He’s still offensively polite though, saying “thank you” no less than six times and making Louis roll his eyes and repress a fake gag.

Louis tells Harry which door down the hall is for the bathroom and that he can have whatever he wants out of the kitchen before Louis says goodnight and pads down the hallway to his own room.

Trying to sleep is gonna be useless with Harry just a stone’s throw away, a tangible presence in his flat, even with the walls between them.

It’s always been like that, an invisible magnetism. One that they both worked very hard to wedge apart because the snap that happens when they get too close is more intense than either of them can handle, not meant for the long term.

Louis turns on the TV and puts the volume on low for some background noise, but it doesn’t help much. He still tosses and turns, not able to get comfortable, while his thoughts run an obstacle course in his head.

Louis doesn’t bother to watch the clock; doesn’t need the reminder of how crazy Harry makes him as the minutes tick by.  

Louis isn’t sure how much time has passed, but the sound of his door creaking open doesn’t even startle him. Harry is very obviously trying to be quiet while he walks over to the bed, but the shuffling footsteps of his big clumsy feet are still loud over the soft murmur of sitcom laugh tracks.

Louis doesn’t pretend to be asleep when Harry pulls back the covers and climbs in, burrowing down and lifting the duvet so he can tuck it around his shoulders.

They’re facing each other, both on their sides with their faces dimly illuminated by the light from the TV. The sound of the sheets rustling and their mingled breathing feels loud, cutting through the white noise of late-night-early-morning. It’s so eerily reminiscent of not that long ago, even though it feels like a lifetime. Back when they used to sleep next to each other more nights than they wouldn’t.

Louis can tell that Harry’s thinking about it too. It’s written all over his features, from the furrow of his brows to the flare of his nostrils, biting his pink bottom lip like he does when he’s thinking about something he’d rather not. His eyes are brighter than they were a little while ago, less tired and more alert. Even in the dark Louis can still read all of his tells.

Louis also notices it as soon as Harry makes the decision to turn this into something more, can practically sense the change in the air before he sees Harry’s gaze drop to Louis’ mouth.

Louis should stop him. He should tell Harry to go back out to the couch and _sleep_ , because Harry’s emotionally compromised and will probably regret this in the morning, or maybe even sooner, when they’ve both finished and the gravity of the situation hits him while the sweat cools on their skin.

But Louis is selfish. He isn’t afraid to admit that. Especially when Harry grabs Louis by his shirt and pulls him in, bringing their faces so close together that if Louis moved forward just a hair, their noses would touch. He can feel Harry’s warm breath hitting his own mouth, the green of Harry’s eyes blurry because Louis can’t focus properly with their proximity. So he shuts his own eyes instead and closes the gap between them, pressing his lips to Harry’s in an open-mouthed kiss.

Harry makes a tiny sound that Louis can’t decipher, even when he pulls back and searches Harry’s face. But before he can ask anything, Harry is pulling him in again with a hand on the back of Louis’ neck. Harry’s shaking; Louis can feel him trembling against his skin, where Harry’s palm is clammy but warm.

Harry’s still being tentative like he’s working something out, maybe a little unsure, but he lets Louis slip his tongue inside his soft mouth and keeps working his lips against Louis’, soft and dirty sweet.

Louis rests a hand on the dip of Harry’s waist, rubs at the skin there through the fabric of his shirt-- _Louis’ shirt_ \-- and gives him a gentle squeeze before he pulls Harry’s body flush to his own.

Neither of them are anywhere near being hard yet, but the heat of being pressed together is enough to have the first stirrings of arousal start up in Louis’ lower belly.

He takes Harry’s bottom lip between his teeth, gently at first, before biting down with firm steady pressure, not anywhere near enough to break skin, but enough to get Harry to make a real noise, a low grunt that Louis can feel the vibration of where their chests are pressed together.

Harry is usually a very passive kisser, used to let Louis lead, move his head around where he wanted it, lick into his mouth and grab his jaw, very malleable and pliant. But Harry isn’t relying on old habits now. He starts giving it right back, more push-and-pull than _just_ Louis’ push. Harry takes control of the kiss, sets the pace, moves his mouth how he wants and when he wants. He lets Louis have the upper-hand for fleeting moments, but always seems to be one step ahead, pulling back before Louis tries to bite, moving his head to the side before Louis can try to suck his bottom lip into his mouth.

Years ago it probably would have driven Louis up a wall, but he’s finding himself into it, having Harry be more forceful and directive. Louis loved and still loves how easy Harry is for almost everything, the way he goes dark-eyed and liquid when someone tells him what to do. But this is a side of Harry that Louis is more unfamiliar with and enjoying getting to know.

Harry pulls away suddenly, their mouths making a wet noise as they part, and he puts a hand on Louis’ chest to keep him at bay. Louis freezes, watches as Harry’s face goes through a complicated series of expressions while he breathes hot and heavy into the space between them. Harry rolls onto his back and brings both hands up to drag over his face, sighing into his own palms. He keeps his hands there, muffling his voice when he says, “Take your clothes off.”

“Harry I--”

Harry takes his hands off of his face and grabs at the blankets by his sides instead, fists clenched, and stares resolutely up at the ceiling. “If you’re gonna try and talk me out of this, you can quit while you’re ahead. And if you don’t want to do this...” he pauses, blinking quickly, “That’s fine. But I can make my own decisions. I’m a big boy.”

Louis can hear the little bit of venom creeping into Harry’s voice by the end, and he finds himself staring at Harry in disbelief, mouth parted but no words coming out. Harry turns his head and raises his eyebrows at Louis. A challenge. A dare.

Louis isn’t really sure what Harry is trying to prove right now; how he managed to go from being irritated and emotional earlier, to soft and quiet, and now _this_ , whatever it may be.

Choosing his words carefully, Louis tries, “I know you can make your own decisions, Harry. But I can still think that this maybe isn’t the best idea.”

Harry’s back to staring at the ceiling. “Is that-- is that a no, then?”

That tone is unmistakable. Harry can handle rejection if he has something to fall back on, but when jumps before checking how far the drop is, he panics after he’s already hit the ground.

“Jesus Harry, I don’t-- I don’t know.”

“Well I think it’s pretty simple, actually. It’s just a yes or a no,” Harry huffs.

Louis pretends he doesn’t see the way Harry’s face has gone blotchy, the same way it always does when he’s trying not to cry. But it isn’t pity that makes Louis close the distance between them again. It isn’t pity that makes him kiss Harry, chaste and brief, before he rolls back and starts to work on getting his shirt off. Louis wants to, because as much as he doesn’t like to admit it, he’s still weak for Harry and anything he wants.

When Louis glances at him, Harry looks relieved, but only for a moment; his expression switches back to unsure, apprehensive and careful. Louis pauses with his hands on the waistband of his boxers.

Harry gets defensive. “What?”

“I-- nothing, I guess. Are you good?”

“I’m fine. Just-- finish getting undressed.”

Louis doesn’t have the energy to argue with him, and while it’s definitely selfish and maybe a little fucked up, he’s not gonna do or say anything that might talk Harry out of this. Harry starts to pull his own shirt off and Louis picks up where he left off and slides his own underwear down his hips and off his legs. Harry’s not far behind, and then it’s just the two of them on the bed, all of their clothes off and not looking at each other, like they both don’t know what to do next now that Harry apparently doesn’t feel as venomous.

Just as a way to cut through some of the awkward static between them, Louis reaches around and rummages through his bedside drawer for lube and a couple condoms. He’s not sure exactly where this is going or what Harry might want, but he’d rather be safe and prepared. Louis drops them into the sheets next to him on his side that’s closest to the edge of the bed, but Harry still catches what’s there. He’s looking at Louis like he’s trying to figure out what Louis is willing to do, to figure out what Louis wants, but Louis tries to convey with his face and eyes that he wants what Harry wants and nothing more. He hopes that the _It’s up to you_ is clear.

Harry looks tentative again. He’s never been shy about his desires, but he hates having decisions put entirely on his shoulders. So Louis tries to coax it out of him.

“What do you want to do? You can tell me. I promise that whatever it is, it’s fine.”

Harry starts to pick at the skin around his nails, eyes down.  “I’dunno. Don’t care. Just want you.”

Harry’s eyes dart to Louis only for a brief flash. Louis tries not to read too much into it, because Harry could mean anything right now. _Just want you_ could mean _I want you because you’re what’s right in front of me at the moment_ or _I’m just saying it because I think it’s what you want to hear_ . It could also mean _I want you, specifically_ but Louis tries not to let that thought linger or get too big.

“Well, for a start, could you actually look at me? And maybe come over here?” Louis tries to keep his tone light.

Harry takes a deep breath and shuffles over so he can straddle Louis’s hips and push at his chest until he lies back. Harry sits up nice and tall, shoulders back like he’s some kind of prince on his perch, shaking off the hair that had fallen into his eyes.. Louis goes to move his hands to curl around Harry’s soft hips, but Harry stops him before he can get there, wrapping his hands lightly around Louis’ wrists and holding them like that.

“You know what I want?” Harry asks quietly, his voice like a purr. It feels like all of the energy in the room changes.

Louis laughs shakily. “Wh-- What?”

Harry gets a glint in his eyes that Louis is unfamiliar with, all of his nerves seemingly gone and replaced with confidence and hint of boldness. “What I want,” he pauses to lean down and graze his teeth over Louis’ jaw, “is for you to listen to me for once. My show.” His voice only trembles a little.

“Yeah. Yes. Whatever you want.” Louis’ breathing is starting to get heavy under the ministrations of Harry’s mouth on his neck, the fleeting sweeps of his warm wet tongue, the smell of him being so close. Harry still has his wrists in his grip.

“Good. I also don’t want you to talk.”

Louis would mime zipping his lips, but when he tries to lift his arm, Harry presses his wrist harder into the sheets, giving Louis a pointed look. So Louis just nods, breathless, because apparently he was only getting a taste of this Harry before, but things seem to be heading in a direction that he never could have anticipated. He’s surprised by how much he likes this, how exciting he finds it. He can tell that this a little new for Harry too, so Louis is doing everything he can to convey that this is all good without actually saying it.

Harry nods, and Louis can’t tell if it’s directed at him if Harry is nodding for himself. “Okay,” Harry says before taking a deep breath and repeating, “Okay. Good.”

Harry lets go of Louis’ wrists in favor of picking up the bottle of lube and squirting some onto his palm. Louis keeps his arms and hands by his sides.

Harry starts by wrapping his hand around Louis’ cock, stroking him slowly with the twist that Louis likes. It’s a little too much for right away, like going from zero to sixty in a few seconds flat, but Louis doesn’t tell him to stop, just sucks in air through his teeth and twitches his hips, unsure if it’s into Harry’s fist or away from it. Either way, Harry doesn’t look bothered or deterred, glancing at Louis for just a second before focusing his attention back to where his hand is working.

Once Harry is apparently satisfied with that and Louis feels like all of his nerves are buzzing, Harry takes his slick hand away. Louis’ hips jump, almost making Harry topple, but he catches himself with his hands on Louis’ chest, smearing warm lube there. Harry’s eyes flick down to his, and for a second Louis thinks that Harry might scold him, but the corners of Harry’s mouth curl up into a tiny smile.

“Easy,” Harry says.

Louis lets out a short laugh and rolls his eyes, nodding. Harry sits back up and his weight is more fully shifted onto Louis’ thighs again. It’s a comforting kind of heaviness. Harry’s warm and soft and while he’s being more stern with Louis than he ever has since they’ve known each other, Louis has never felt more connected to him.

Harry grabs for the lube again and keeps his eyes on what he’s doing, even when he rolls his first two fingers through the a new dollop on his palm and Louis’ breath catches, not bothering to spare him even a small glance. Louis wasn’t exactly sure where this was headed, and he certainly wasn’t expecting anything, but it still surprises him a little. In a good way, of course.

Harry raises up on his knees a bit and reaches behind himself, his eyes closing and his brows knitting together like he’s concentrating. It’s not the easiest angle, especially for him to be doing it to himself, but he adjusts quickly, his abdominal muscles jumping when he does something that must feel good.

Louis couldn’t stop looking at Harry if he wanted to, completely engrossed in cataloguing all of Harry’s reactions; the way his breathing gets more erratic, the quick little huffs he lets out, how his face scrunches up and his mouth drops open, his thighs squeezing around Louis’ hips.

Harry stops suddenly, opening his eyes, but keeps his arm behind himself. He knee-walks further up and over Louis’ body, so that he’s sat over his chest, looking down at him with a meaningful expression.

When Louis doesn’t move, Harry prompts, “Suck me off,” and tacks on a, “Please,” like it slips out without him even thinking. Even though his request is polite, it’s clear by his tone that it’s less of a suggestion and more of a order.

Louis doesn’t hesitate to lift his head up and take Harry’s cock into his mouth. There’s a bit of precome gathering in the slit that he licks off right away, making Harry gasp and push his hips forward quickly. Louis moves his head back to accommodate for the thrust, and lets Harry’s dick skid accross his lips and cheek. Harry mumbles a quick apology under his breath but doesn’t move away, just angles his hips towards Louis’ mouth again.

Louis is able to slide his lips down further this time, feeling out all of the soft bumps and ridges, the vein that runs up the underside, moving his tongue languidly to watch Harry squirm in an effort to keep steady and not thrust too fast again. Harry’s hips are rocking slightly because of the motion of his fingers that are still in his own arse, and it looks like it’s taking all of his self control to keep up with opening himself up and managing his reactions to Louis’ mouth on him.

Harry has always been polite and well-mannered when he gets head, and this time is no different. Louis lets Harry use his mouth so that he can make himself feel good the way he wants, but Harry keeps it smooth and shallow, never getting too rough or quick. When Louis keeps his head still and relaxes his jaw, Harry picks up on it right away but stays gentle when he starts to actually fuck Louis’ mouth.

He doesn’t go very deep, and when he does manage to nudge the back of Louis’ throat, it makes Louis splutter a bit and Harry backs off immediately. He pays extra close attention from then on, watching Louis’ face with wide eyes, making sure that he doesn’t do it again.

Louis’ dick is hard and resting on his stomach, but he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch himself right now. Although Harry is very focused, Louis doesn’t want to disrupt the careful balance they’ve established by making any sudden movements that aren’t from the motion of his mouth on Harry’s cock. Regardless, he’s content to just get Harry closer and closer and let his own arousal simmer and build up.

Harry’s thighs have started to shake slightly, and his moans are getting higher and breathier, half-choked grunts escaping occasionally, while his temples get shiny with sweat and make the short hairs along his forehead curl. His cock is so wet that the slide in-and-out faces almost no resistance, noisy and loud and slick in the otherwise quiet room.

Harry breathes in sharply all of a sudden and stops moving completely. “Stop,” he whimpers, and uses a light touch to guide Louis’ mouth off of him. He catches his breath for a few seconds. “Don’t wanna come yet,” he gasps. “Gonna ride you.”

Louis can only nod as Harry shuffles backwards and hands him a condom, opening it quickly and rolling it on himself. Harry picks up the lube again and slicks Louis up quickly, adjusting his position until he can reach behind himself with Louis’ cock in his hand, just holding him against his opening. He’s warm and wet there, Louis can feel it even through the condom, and he wants to push his hips up and slide right into that tight heat, but he keeps a hold of himself and stays still, watching Harry’s face.

Harry slides up and down a few times, letting Louis’ cock thrust through his slick crack, but he doesn’t let him in yet, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. Louis brings his hands up to Harry’s waist and Harry allows it, so Louis doesn’t try to push it or move Harry how he really wants.

Harry must get tired of his own teasing because without warning he begins to slowly lower himself down onto Louis’ cock, all the muscles in his body tightening and releasing, dropping heavily once he’s fully seated.

Louis opens his mouth without even thinking. “There you go, baby.”

The smirk slides right off of Harry’s face. “Don’t-- don’t call me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because, this is-- that’s not what this is, Louis,” Harry pants. Despite getting agitated, Harry starts up a steady roll of his hips, tightening down on Louis’ cock every time he bottoms out.

It feels so good that Louis completely abandons any kind of argument that he could start and pushes his hips up to meet Harry’s instead. Harry gets his hands on Louis’ chest for leverage and starts to really work himself, quickly shifting into a bounce that has their skin slapping against each other lewdly. Louis tries to lean up for a kiss but Harry turns his face into Louis’ neck instead, panting hot and wet into the skin there. Louis feels a little stung over being rejected for a second, but doesn’t comment or press the issue.

Getting his knees up and his feet planted on the mattress, Louis starts to thrust his hips up with more purpose, trying to see if he can graze that spot that will get Harry to lose it completely. But Harry isn’t having it.

“Stay-- _uh_ \-- still.”

“But--”

“I thought I said no talking.” Harry picks his head up and gives Louis a pointed look.

Louis squeezes Harry’s waist in response, but does as he’s told.

Harry closes his eyes and continues, “No-- _mmm_ \-- no talking. Just gonna use your cock to get off.” He’s slowed down to a roll again, his back arching and his hips twisting like he’s getting paid to do it, graceful like he only is in bed.

Louis feels like his lungs are burning with how fast he’s breathing, his limbs spasming wildly under the restrictions of Harry’s words, holding himself back from thrusting too much or letting out the filth he wants to whisper into Harry’s ear. He’s close faster than he can even register.

“Harry--”

“Shh--”

“ _M’close_.”

That gets Harry’s attention, his hips stopping their movement completely before he sits up and pushes his sweaty hair out of his face.

Louis can’t help the frustrated noise he makes. “C’mon, Harry. _Jesus_.”

“You have terrible listening skills.”

Harry moves like he’s gonna slide off Louis’ lap, but Louis holds him still before he can. Harry stares at him consideringly for a few seconds before leaning down to whisper right up against Louis’ ear.  

“You’re not coming first,” he sinks his teeth into the soft skin of Louis’ neck. “I’m gonna fuck myself on your cock until I come,” another bite, sharper this time, “and _then_ I’ll get you off.”

Louis can feel his heart rate pick up in his chest, his eyelids shuttering for a few seconds. Harry places a small kiss over the spot he just bit and pulls his head back to search Louis’ face, looking to make sure that this is still okay. Louis can’t nod fast enough.

Harry doesn’t start to bounce again, just dirtily grinds his hips, trying to get the best angle for himself. He apparently finds it quickly, letting out a series of sharp whimpers, his whole body locking up in little fits and starts, starting to shake. He’s barely pulling off now, staying mostly seated while his hips pick up the pace of their rolls, his abs visibly working, face starting to scrunch up again.

Louis wants to come; it would be so easy to let go and let his cock pulse into the condom with Harry’s tight arse milking him. But the sight of Harry using his cock to make himself feel good is worth the exercise in self-restraint. He can tell that Harry’s starting to get tired, but he can also tell that Harry is close. He slides his hands lower to cup Harry’s arse-cheeks in his hands, squeezing there in a non-verbal _c’mon_ , and reaching with his fingers to feel where Harry is stretched around him, hot and wet with lube, stroking over the skin there.

It makes Harry grunt and apparently shocks him enough to disrupt his rhythm a little, but he gets back to it immediately. Harry closes his eyes and drops his head forward so that him and Louis are forehead-to-forehead, panting into Louis’ mouth before pushing their lips together.

Louis’ isn’t expecting it, and can’t help the little noise of surprise he lets out. Harry must not notice, though, or if he does, gets over it quickly, using his tongue to work open Louis’ mouth and sliding their tongues together. Louis swallows up all the noise Harry makes as he gets louder and his movements get jerkier.

Suddenly, Harry is biting down on Louis’ bottom lip as he goes completely still and quiet. Louis feels Harry’s insides pulsing around him before he feels the telltale wetness between them as Harry spurts onto both of their stomachs. Harry loudly releases a breath he was holding and lets go of Louis’ lip in favor of tucking his face into Louis’ neck again and whining through the rest of finishing.

After a few minutes of recovery and Louis gently rubbing his hands up and down his back, Harry slides himself off of Louis’ cock, wincing slightly, and takes the condom off him, tossing it somewhere on the floor.

He swings one of his legs over him and cuddles up next to Louis, draped across his side, and spits into his hand before reaching down and starting to jerk him off. Louis would comment that they literally have lube _right there_ , but Harry’s hand feels so good that the words die right on his tongue.

He’s been ready to come for what feels like ages, so it’s unavoidable that he feels close quicker than he’d like to admit. Just like Louis knows Harry and Harry’s body like a well-read book, Harry knows the same things about Louis. Louis doesn’t even need to say anything, because Harry beats him to it.

“Go ahead. You can come now.”

And Louis does. At the sound of Harry’s soft gritty voice and a look from his warm sleepy face, Louis adds to the mess that’s already on his stomach and comes right into Harry’s fist, Harry helping him coax out the last of if with easy little strokes.

When Louis is done, Harry lets go of his cock and drags a finger tip through the white on Louis’ belly and chest, some of it gone thick and tacky already. Louis doesn’t say a word, still catching his breath, and watches as Harry sighs and gets up, heading to the bathroom.

He comes back after about a minute, washcloth in hand, and wipes Louis off. They don’t say anything to each other as he does it, or even after once he’s put the soiled flannel in the bathroom and he’s come back to bed.

They just get settled under the covers and Louis shuts off the TV. It feels like there’s an ocean between them on the bed, but Louis doesn’t know what’s allowed after all of that. Without any light in the room, it’s even harder to make out Harry’s features. So Louis rolls over, putting his back to Harry. It’s not an angry gesture, or even a hurt one; he’s just not sure what the protocol is here.

The only sounds now are the rustling of the sheets as Harry tosses and turns and the loud pulsing of blood in Louis’ ears. He’s tired though, and he can feel sleep trying to drag him under. Harry eventually settles, after he’s shuffled closer to where Louis is lying, and Louis can feel the heat of him where their backs are touching, both curled up on their sides like a pair of opposite facing C’s.

Just as Louis is about to fall asleep, he hears Harry mumble something that sounds a lot like, “Love you, Lou. Always love you.”

Half-delirious, Louis manages to whisper, “What?”

Harry is either genuinely asleep or is pretending to be, because he gets no response. Louis falls asleep a few minutes later with the words bouncing around in his head.

~~~~~

Harry’s gone by morning.

Louis wakes up to one half of his bed covered in nothing but cold rumpled sheets and a ripped-open condom wrapper, physical evidence that he didn’t dream up the entire thing.

A tiny part of him was hoping that Harry would be in the kitchen, having a bowl of cereal or heating up the kettle, but his pessimistic side gives a little _I told you so_ when he finds an empty room.

He stands there for a second on cold tiles and scratches his fingers through his hair, blowing a long breath out through his lips. That’s all he allows himself before he gets on with his day.

By nightfall, Harry hasn’t called or texted or used any other form of communication to let Louis know where he ran off to or why, and Louis doesn’t anticipate him making any moves to do so anytime soon. What happened between them was probably a one-time thing. Even though he thought something similar when they split, and then he ended up in a threesome with Harry _and_ Zayn, this time feels a little different.

He bumps into Zayn a couple weeks later, and Louis instantly feels guilty when he sees him. Louis is obviously a little peeved that Zayn kicked Harry out in the first place, but Harry never even said if him and Zayn were officially broken up, and Louis still… did what he and Harry did together.

Louis is about to turn around and leave when Zayn spots him before he can make a clean getaway. They end up sitting together, talking over coffee, and Louis’ guilt is quickly replaced with anger.

“Excuse me?”

Zayn keeps his eyes on the linoleum table while he picks apart an empty sugar packet. “I was drunk,” he mumbles.

“That’s not-- you don’t get to use that as an excuse.” Louis tries to keep his voice down so he doesn’t draw attention to them, despite wanting to launch himself across the table.

Zayn looks and sounds like a scolded child. “I know.”

Louis doesn’t understand what went through Zayn’s head, alcohol or not, to cheat in the first place, and then to kick Harry out because he fucked up? It makes no sense, and he tells Zayn as much.

“I told you already. Every time I looked at him I felt like I was going to throw up, I felt so guilty,” Zayn says.

Louis shakes his head. It was a selfish and shitty thing to do, but Louis does have a legitimate question. “Did Harry know? When you kicked him out, did he know why?”

Zayn’s face twists like he’s uncomfortable before he quietly admits, “Yes.”

Harry must have felt awful. He was upset when he showed up at Louis’ flat, but Louis had no idea the full extent of the situation, and Harry never told him. Well, not the whole truth, at least. Louis feels sick at the thought that Harry either didn’t want to tell him or would’ve felt uncomfortable sharing the details. Louis is aware that they don’t have the best relationship these days, but he wishes he could go back to that night and be more approachable or let Harry know that he would have been willing to listen.

Louis is glad that Zayn told Harry, because he deserves to know. Louis just hopes that Zayn didn’t drag it out too long and that he told Harry about it as soon as possible. Things like that shouldn’t happen at all, but if they do, they shouldn’t be kept a secret. He realizes that’s a bit hypocritical of himself, given the circumstances, but Zayn doesn’t need to know that.  

“Have you spoken to him since?” Louis asks. He very pointedly doesn’t mention that he’s seen Harry and they did more than talk, just to be safe.

“Just a couple texts. He was staying with a friend, but now he’s with his mum.”

Louis wonders if the friend was him or someone else. Doesn’t matter, though. He’s just happy with the knowledge that Harry is with family, hopefully being taken care of, and not sleeping on a couch.

Louis and Zayn only stay for a little while longer, until they both finish their drinks, and then part ways again after a stilted and awkward goodbye.

On the bus home, Louis debates on whether or not he should send Harry a message, and fights internally with himself before typing up a quick, _hey, hope youre doing alright,_ and hitting send before he can chicken out. He keeps checking his phone until he gets to his stop, realizing that Harry might not respond at all, so he pockets his phone and thinks about something else.

Harry texts him back two days later. _I’m doing okay. Same goes to you x._

Louis leaves it on Read.

~~~~~

It feels like the most bizarre deja vu Louis has ever had when he sees Zayn and Harry together.

He’s at a friend’s party, a different one from the last time, but for another birthday. This one is at a club, so avoidance is more doable. However, as fate or whatever other higher power must have it, Harry spots him and shortly after, Zayn does too .

Louis tries to pretend that he didn’t notice them, looking everywhere but in their direction and trying to appear like he’s busy talking to someone.

A few minutes later, when he glances back to where they were at the bar, the spot is empty and he thinks he’s in the clear, only to feel a tap on his shoulder.

Of course it’s them.

The first thing Louis notices when he turns around is the hand Zayn has on Harry’s waist. It’s clear that they both see where his gaze lands, and when his eyes flick back up, Zayn has the decency to look remorseful. Harry’s expression is more sheepish, but he keeps his posture tall and confident, shoulders back where he’s leaning into Zayn’s space.

Zayn nods in greeting. “Hey,” he practically has to shout because of the volume coming from the speakers across the room.

“Hey. You two look cozy.”

Zayn eyes go borderline pleading and Harry shuffles nervously on his feet. Good. Louis isn’t jealous or even angry, he’s just completely dumbfounded by what’s happening right now, by what he’s seeing. It doesn’t surprise him that they’re probably back together, but he does wish that he could understand why.

It’s Harry who speaks up, with none of the usual bite that he reserves just for Louis. “Wanna talk to you. Both of us do. We have some things to explain.”

“A bit busy right now, mate.”

Harry isn’t deterred. “Well, when you’re not busy, let us know.”

Louis just nods noncommittally. They’re back to being an _us_. How sweet.

When they realize that they’re not going to get much more from him, Harry and Zayn walk away. Louis doesn’t mean to watch them, but keeps track of how they make their way back to their friend group and say their goodbyes before they leave the club entirely.

After about an hour, Louis is significantly more drunk and has to take a few seconds to focus on the text he receives. It’s from Harry. _You know where our flat is. Stop by if you feel so inclined._

He can’t help the laugh he lets out, thin and humorless. Such typical Harry Antics -- infuriatingly polite and a little cryptic. This whole thing is so ridiculous, the way they keep coming together for brief moments, only to dance around each other the rest of the time. He should -- block their numbers or something. Stop this headache before it can get any worse. But he doesn’t, because he’s never known how to quit while he’s ahead, and he isn’t about to start now.

~~~~~

Louis is seconds away from walking back down the stairs and going home. This is stupid. He doesn’t even know if Zayn and Harry are here right now. It’s not like he sent a text to alert them that he’d be showing up, or even responded to Harry’s initial text.

That night, after leaving the club, Louis decided it would be best to go back to his own flat and sleep it off before he could do anything really ill-advised. He made himself forget about Harry’s message for the rest of the night and told himself he’d deal with it later.

Later turns out to be the next Friday, a full week after the club meeting, when Louis finds himself knocking on the door to Zayn and Harry’s flat and instantly feeling like an idiot. He waits about a minute or so and listens for any kind of sound from the other side of the door but hears nothing. They’re probably out. Or maybe they’re psychics and know it’s him and are ignoring him on purpose. Either way, just as he’s about to call it a bust and leave, the door swings open and reveals a mildly startled Harry.

“Oh. It’s you.”

“Yes, it’s me. You texted me, remember?”

“I-- yeah. I just didn’t think you’d actually come by.”

Louis wants to ask  _Well why would you have sent that, then_? But instead he says, “Well, are you gonna let me in or what?”

He doesn’t even care if he’s interrupting something. Maybe he can score some free dinner. But apparently they were just vegging out, watching some TV in ratty sweats.

They all end up in the living room, just like last time, and Louis can tell that they’re all thinking the same thing. There’s a different kind of tension, though. Less tangible than before, and split differently; Louis is still angry with Zayn, in a way that he can’t really describe, and he feels something akin to disappointment with Harry. A tiny niggling feeling of jealousy keeps trying to rear its ugly head as well, but he’s doing his best to ignore it.

None of them are fully relaxed and no one is talking, like they’re all trying to avoid bringing up the giant elephant in the room. It’s obvious that Harry told Zayn about what happened between him and Louis, but surprisingly, Zayn doesn’t look very angry or upset, more discerning than anything.

Harry’s nervous. He’s picking at the skin around his nails and won’t make eye contact with either of them for more than a few seconds at a time, one of his knees bouncing where he’s sitting on the couch. Louis would be willing to bet money that Zayn told him that Louis knows the full story of what Zayn did. Louis is still a little confused as to why Harry seems upset by him knowing, embarrassed even; it’s not like Harry is the one who did anything wrong.

The TV is still on, but none of them are even pretending to watch, even as the awkward silence is occasionally interrupted by on-screen explosions from whatever action movie is playing. Louis is starting to feel the full weight of his initial apprehension about coming here, wishing that he had maybe walked away when he had the chance. Harry made it clear where they stand, and now he’s back with Zayn despite everything, and that speaks volumes. It’s not that Louis is still holding a full-blown torch for Harry or anything like that, it just stings a little, seeing Harry with someone who’s hurt him, when he can’t even look Louis in the eye right now.

Still the ever-good host that he is, Harry asks, “Anyone want anything to drink? Or eat?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Zayn says.

Louis could actually go for some food, but he feels weird asking, even though Harry is offering. “I’m fine, thanks.”

Harry stands up from his spot on the couch and brushes off invisible crumbs from his lap. “Well, I’m just gonna... go to the kitchen anyway.”

After Harry shuffles out of the room, Zayn turns his attention to Louis. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon.” His voice is light and easy, but the way he raises his eyebrows looks a little confrontational.

Louis would say that he doesn’t know what Zayn’s problem is, but he does. Zayn was never the type for irrational jealousy, but apparently that’s changed. Louis isn’t gonna call him on it, but he’s happy that he has it figured out anyway.

“Yeah, well. I was bored. Thought I’d drop in and say hello.”

Zayn doesn’t miss a beat. “You’ve got Harry all in a tizzy. He was fine before you got here.”

That makes Louis feel a little ping of triumph, but also a little worried. He doesn’t want Harry to feel uncomfortable around him, especially considering the circumstances. If Harry regrets it, Louis doesn’t know if he could handle how much that would hurt.

“I can go if you want. I know Harry would never kick me out, but you can.”

Zayn snorts. “I’m not gonna kick you out. He’ll get over it. He just needs to have his meltdown in the kitchen and then he’ll come back out here and be charming as ever. You know how he is.”

Louis isn’t sure what has happened over the course of the past year or so, but Zayn is different. He seems… jaded, in a way. It’s a stark contrast to the hearts that would practically shoot out of his eyes whenever he would as much as talk about Harry. He sounds resigned now, and Louis just hopes that those feeling are being directed at himself and not at Harry.

Louis just hums in agreement, knowingly. Harry comes back into the living room shortly after, setting down three glasses of water on the coffee table that no one asked for. Out of politeness, Louis takes a sip from one of the glasses and says _thank you_ to Harry anyway. Harry mumbles a quick _you’re welcome_ and holds eye contact with Louis for a beat too-long before picking up his phone and focusing on that.

“Harry,” Zayn starts, out of the blue, “Why don’t you tell Louis what you told me. About what you want.” Zayn doesn’t sound particularly happy but he doesn’t sound angry either.

Eyes going wide and face blushing pink, Harry squirms a little from his spot on the couch. When he doesn’t say anything, Zayn adds, “C’mon. You were pretty _enthusiastic_ about it the other day.”

The way he says it, just by his tone, Louis catches what he means.

“I--,” Harry starts but takes a deep breath before continuing. “I want us all together again. Like that time.” He’s not looking at either of them.

“That’s pretty vague, babe. Can you explain it a little better, please?”

Harry’s face goes mulish and he huffs, glaring at Zayn. “Can you not act like this right now? You know what I said and I think anyone with some sense would know what I meant.”

“It’s very simple, H. All you have to say is that you want both of us to fuck you again. Together.”

Impossibly, Harry’s cheeks go even redder. It feels a bit like a tennis match, watching the two of them go back and forth like this. Louis is keeping up, but only because he’s practically being dragged.

Wringing his hands together, Harry says, “Yes. That’s what I want.” He sounds embarrassed, and if Louis didn’t know better, he’d tell Zayn to knock it off and leave Harry be. But he does know better, so he understands that this is okay, that Harry likes this, gets off on it. It’s an abrupt change to deal with, like they’re all on an emotional roller coaster, considering that they’ve completely abandoned awkward tension and replaced it with sexual tension, but Louis is willing to go for the ride.

Pushing his more complicated emotions aside, Louis focuses his attention on the bulge that’s starting to form in Harry’s sweats.

Zayn notices it too. “Harry, I want you to go in the bedroom and get ready. Take off all your clothes and put your ring on. Wait on the bed for us.”

Harry gets up and heads down the hall without another word. Louis feels like the rug has been pulled right out from underneath him. He wants to say something like, _you’ve trained him up well, huh?_ , because Zayn is much more confident with this persona now and Harry is obedient as ever, but Louis refrains.

“Wanna have a cig first? Give him some time to get settled and sweat it out a little. Plus, I just need one before this.”

Louis agrees and accepts the Marlboro that Zayn hands him. Zayn opens up one of the windows in the living room and they blow their smoke out into the night air through the screen, three floors up. They don’t talk to each other, just listen to the sounds of the city below, an ambulance in the distance, a car alarm a few blocks away. They work their way down to the filters before dropping them into a crystal ashtray and walking to Zayn and Harry’s bedroom.

The first thing Louis notices are the suitcases on the floor, open but on their way to being filled up with clothes. Harry’s, if Louis had to guess, judging by the amount of loud prints and black skinny jeans.

The second thing Louis notices is Harry. He’s on the bed, just like Zayn told him, but he’s on his hands and knees, rummaging through the bedside table drawer. He’s starkers, so he’s quite exposed by the way he’s bent over, and Louis feels his face flash hot at the sight.

They both step more fully into the room and Zayn makes an _ahem_ sound in his throat to get Harry’s attention. Harry’s startles and straightens up, his back and arse muscles tensing before he turns around on his knees. He has a cock ring on, blue silicone by the looks of it, and his expression is one like a child that got caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“What are you doing, H?” Zayn asks coolly.

Harry’s face blooms a hectic pink. “I was, uhm. Getting some stuff out.”

“What did I ask you to do?”

“I just thought--”

“Did I tell you to do it, though?”

“No,” Harry mumbles, ducking his head.

Zayn just hums, sounding bored.

Louis feels a little fidgety. He’s honestly not sure why Zayn feels like he has any ground to stand on when it comes to reprimanding Harry for anything, but Louis can tell that Harry’s still into it by the way his eyes have gone dark and how his flush is spreading down his chest. Harry has always been easy for some light scolding, a big fan of rules, especially when they can be easily broken.

“Hey, Lou,” Zayn says casually. “You hard yet?”

“I-- what?” He isn’t yet, but it won’t take much to get him there. Just seeing Harry naked is enough to have him primed and ready, which is equal parts impressive and embarrassing, but he’s not sure if Zayn wants to know that.

“Simple question, mate.” Zayn smirks.

“Uh, a little.”

“That’s no good. Harry, come do something about that.”

Harry’s eyes go a bit wide, being called on so suddenly, but he doesn’t hesitate to get off the bed and make his way over to where Louis is standing. He goes to reach for the fly of Louis’ jeans, but Zayn stops him, Harry shooting him a questioning glance.

“You don’t get to use your hands. You’ve already touched him enough. Get on your knees and use your mouth.”

Ah, there it is. Louis instantly understands fully how this is gonna go.

Harry drops to his knees, thudding on the carpet, and doesn’t break his eye contact with Zayn, even as he starts to mouth at Louis’ fly. He’s not going to get very far like that, so Louis pops the button and pulls his zipper down, Harry keeping his mouth close and breathing hot over his fingers. He pushes his own jeans and underwear down, and as soon as his dick is free, Harry is on him, his warm wet mouth sliding down right away, taking Louis so close to the back of his throat that he splutters a little around his mouthful. The vibration of it is intense, or at least more intense than the feeling of Harry’s mouth in general, and it makes Louis feel shaky and unbalanced already. He gets fully hard so fast that he actually feels a bit dizzy.

Louis can see Zayn watching them out of the corner of his eye, but he tries to focus fully on Harry where he’s bobbing over the length of Louis’ cock, sucking with just the right amount of pressure and using his tongue to swirl around the head when he slides up. Louis gets a hand in Harry’s hair, not to direct him or move him at all, but just as a way to ground himself. Harry makes a pleased sound as his eyelashes flutter where they’re resting against the tops of his cheeks, and Louis swears he can feel the little hum down to his toes.

Zayn apparently decides that he wants in on the action as well, because he pushes down his own jeans and underwear and stands closer to Louis, nudging Harry’s thigh with his toes. Harry stops bobbing his head, but doesn’t take his mouth off Louis’ cock, just opens his eyes and looks up at Zayn.

“You’re gonna suck me off, too. Think you can handle that?” Zayn asks.

Harry pulls off and nods, his lips already shiny and bruised looking. He makes like he’s gonna wrap a hand around Zayn’s cock, but drops it quickly, locking both his arms behind his back before angling himself better and getting his mouth on him. Zayn doesn’t try to hold back or stay still, thrusting deep into Harry’s mouth quickly and not even flinching when Harry gags.

Louis doesn’t know if it’s just the circumstances or if they’ve built up to this, but Zayn is much rougher with Harry now than he was the last time they were all together. Louis remembers how uneasy Zayn had looked when Louis pushed, pulled Harry’s hair, said nasty things to him. It’s funny, how much has changed.

Zayn is relentless, fucking Harry’s mouth almost carelessly, telling him to watch his teeth but otherwise not saying much, good or bad. It’s wet and sloppy sounding, only interrupted by the sounds Harry makes when Zayn goes too deep too quickly, coughing and gagging while his green eyes go glassy from tearing up. Just as Louis can feel the wetness from Harry’s mouth start to cool on his dick, Zayn nudges him.

“Get closer,” he says to Louis. He fists a rough hand in the hair at the crown of Harry’s head and pulls him off abruptly with a popping noise. “I think you’re forgetting someone, H. You agreed to suck us both off, right?”

Louis doesn’t remind him that Zayn is the one who’s been holding Harry’s mouth hostage.

“Yes,” Harry scrapes out, his voice shot. He doesn’t wait for further prompting, just licks at them both when Louis gets close enough, so that his and Zayn’s cock are nearly touching. Zayn takes himself in hand and wraps his fingers around Louis’ shaft as well, making it easier for Harry to mouth wetly at the heads of their cocks, his breath hot as he pants over them.

The sensation is a lot to handle, but the visual makes something dirty and satisfying twist in Louis’ gut, only to be amplified when Harry glances up for approval, his eyes flicking to Zayn’s first and then to Louis’. Harry can’t really get both of them in his mouth at the same time, but not for lack of trying, stretching his lips as much as possible and visibly growing frustrated with himself for not being able to do it. Louis wants to reassure him, but he’s a bit nervous about potentially overstepping; Zayn has made it very clear that he’s in charge of this whole thing.

Harry changes tactics, and starts switching between the two of them quickly and frequently. Zayn is still holding both of them together, near the bases, so that Harry has some room to work. Harry slides his mouth over the head of one of their cocks, but angles his head so he can use the side of his lips or his cheek to rub at whatever he can reach on the other. He’s frantic with it, trying to please both of them as much as possible. It’s not enough constant or consistent stimulation to make either of them come, but it’s so good on a visceral level.

Zayn stops Harry again, a little gentler this time, not pulling his hair so hard when he guides Harry’s mouth away from them. “That was good, H. Wanna do something else now. Go get on the bed.

As Harry stands, and without the distraction of Harry’s mouth on his cock, Louis gets a good look at Harry’s, the base trapped by the ring and making his whole dick look strained where it’s reaching up towards his belly, the near-purple head smearing wet against his skin.

He clambers up onto the bed, dropping down onto his hands and knees without being asked, and it was apparently the right thing to do because Zayn doesn’t comment. Zayn climbs up behind him and runs his hands over Harry’s broad back, rough enough that Harry’s skin crumples and folds, but Harry doesn’t make a noise or try to move away from it.

Zayn beckons Louis over to the bed but addresses Harry. “You’re gonna suck Louis off some more, okay?”

At Harry’s nod, Louis gets his jeans and underwear all the way off and takes off his shirt before kneeing onto the bed and positioning himself in front of Harry. Without anything more than a quick look up, Harry lets Louis slide back into his velvety soft mouth again, more languid and relaxed this time, sighing into it and going down until his nose is almost touching the short hairs at the base of Louis’ dick.

Louis gets lost in it, rocking his hips slightly but not fucking Harry’s mouth the way Zayn was earlier, content to let Harry do most of the work. His eyes are closed, but they fly open when he hears the snick of a cap, watching as Zayn slicks up his fingers and starts to rub them over the crack of Harry’s arse.  

It makes Harry pitch forward as he makes a surprised sound around his mouthful, the vibration of it shooting right to the pit of Louis’ stomach. He feels unsteady for a second, letting out a harsh breath, but uses one hand in Harry’s hair and another placed on his shoulder to stabilize himself.

Harry picks up his rhythm again and Louis focuses on Zayn’s fingers and where he can see one of them disappearing into the tight clutch of Harry’s body, pumping in and out at an already brisk pace. Zayn isn’t fingering Harry for the hell of it. It’s quick and perfunctory, just to get him open enough so Zayn can presumably fuck him and give Louis a go as well. He feels a bit funny, thinking about Harry so objectively, but is suddenly very distracted by the way Harry is swirling his tongue around the head of Louis’ cock.

Louis grunts. “That’s it. _Christ_ , your mouth.”

Harry’s face goes pleased, at least as much as it can with his lips stretched wide, and Louis sees a little shiver run down his spine as he squirms further onto Zayn’s fingers, two of them now, that are scissoring and working him open further.

Not taking his eyes off of Harry’s arse, Zayn says, “Don’t come, Louis. You’re gonna fuck him after I do.”

“I-- okay. Yeah,” Louis stammers and uses his grip on Harry’s hair to slow his mouth down a bit.

Quickly getting a third finger into Harry, Zayn waits for any sign of discomfort on Harry’s end, and when he’s met with nothing but a moan, he keeps going right away. Louis has to pull Harry off completely or else he won’t be able to stop himself from coming, but lets Harry lean his forehead against his hip to pant and whimper there.

“You good, H?” Zayn asks.

Harry nods against Louis’ skin. Reaching over and grabbing a condom, Zayn rolls it onto himself and positions himself back behind Harry, nudging Harry’s knees a little further apart so his hips drop and Zayn can get a better angle. Zayn uses a hand wrapped around the base of his dick to guide himself into Harry’s arse with a little push and one slick easy slide.

Gasping, Harry immediately collapses to his elbows, his forehead skidding down Louis’ thigh before Louis shuffles back to give him room to put his head down completely. Zayn reaches around and under Harry, feeling out the shape of his cock that still has the ring on, but only stays there for a second, bringing his hands back to grip at Harry’s soft hips, his fingers wet from where Harry is clearly leaking.

Zayn starts thrusting harder, the front of his thighs slapping against the backs of Harry’s, making Harry’s arse-cheeks wobble from the impact. Harry is making little _uh_ sounds every time Zayn bottoms out, his voice getting higher and threadier when his hips drop even more and the head of his dick starts to graze the sheets. Zayn doesn’t seem deterred or bothered by the noise, keeping up with his heavy thrusts, but Louis has to get a hand around the base of his own dick that’s actually throbbing.

Changing his angle a bit, Zayn must start to hit Harry’s prostate dead-on, if the sharp whimper Harry lets out is any indication, his whole body going tense and shaky.

“Ow-- Zayn, _ow_ . _Hurts_.”

Zayn lets up a bit, attentive. “What hurts?”

“Cock,” Harry gasps. “Hurts. Wanna come.”

Petting his hips consolingly, Zayn says, “You can’t come yet. You have to wait.”

Harry whines, frustrated, but starts to push back into Zayn’s thrusts more purposefully. It’s counterintuitive and pointless, really; the ring is gonna stop him from getting anywhere and keep him on the cusp of coming without actual release, but neither Louis or Zayn tell him that.

Keeping a hand on Harry’s lower back, just over his tailbone, Zayn pulls out of him with a squelch that they all ignore. Harry goes to stretch out fully on his belly, but Zayn keeps his hips hitched up and tosses a condom at Louis.

“Your turn,” Zayn says, casual, easy as anything.

Louis rolls it on and gets himself behind Harry quickly. He can’t help but ask, “Are you alright, Harry?”

Harry nods into the sheets, eyes closed and his mouth parted.

It’s always a little odd, sliding into someone who’s already so thoroughly opened up, having been fucked by another person beforehand. Not that Louis does this kind of thing a lot, but it’s obviously not the first time. It feels like he’s sinking into warm melted butter, almost no resistance, but Harry’s insides are hot and clinging to him, even through the condom.

Harry is whimpering almost constantly now, and Louis feels a little bad, that he’s not allowed to come, being used and forced to confront the full onslaught of sensations, carved out and over-sensitive. But Louis has the sneaking suspicion that play like this is a common occurrence between Harry and Zayn, given that Harry didn’t even bat an eye at Zayn’s earlier request that he wear a cock ring.

Either way, he’s not about to complain. If Harry was really that uncomfortable or hurting enough, he would word-out. Louis settles for slow deep thrusts, taking the time to really look at the expanse of Harry’s back, watching his muscles bunch up and go loose, appreciating the view of Harry’s tiny arse being opened up on his cock, the skin there shiny with lube and looking warm to the touch. He reaches his fingers down to find out, and he’s exactly right.

Clawing at the sheets, Harry’s torso starts twisting, like it’s too much, biting the pillow that’s nearest to him. Louis take his fingers away and folds them into the creases of Harry’s hips instead. Louis is getting close, so he looks to Zayn to see what he’s supposed to do, if he’s allowed to come inside Harry, even if it’s into the condom.

Zayn must understand his questioning glance because he just nods.

With a few more quick jerky thrusts, Louis lets go and finishes with his hips pressed tight to Harry’s arse, grunting low in his throat and riding out the aftershocks with a few dirty grinds. He feels like his spine turns into liquid, all of his limbs heavy, and he wants nothing more than to lay down and take a quick nap. But he’s still inside Harry, going soft, and Harry is growing increasingly restless. Louis pulls out gently and ties off the condom, tossing it into the bin near the bed.

Louis stretches out on the unoccupied section of the bed while Zayn gets Harry onto his back and slides in between his legs, pushing Harry’s knees up and out. Even though he’s shaking, Harry is pliant and moves easy when Zayn positions him, getting his hands under Harry’s arse and his legs around his waist, tilting his hips up so he’s off the bed a bit and he can push back into Harry with a careful aim of his cock.

“You got to tell him what to do last time, hm?” Zayn asks.

Louis feels his insides twist.  
  
“Yes,” Harry gasps.  
  
“Well,” Zayn tuts. “This time you have to listen to me. Are we clear?”  
  
“Yeah-- _fuck_ , god, yes.”

Zayn leans down quickly to kiss Harry on the mouth, slipping him his tongue for a brief flash before sitting up again and picking up where he left off. Harry didn’t duck away from him like he did to Louis the last time. Even though he only denied Louis the once, Louis doesn’t know how that makes him feel.

Harry’s breathing hasn’t slowed down since Zayn started fucking him at the beginning of this whole thing, and it’s only getting heavier. His ribs are expanding and contracting rapidly, tiny hurt noises spilling out of his mouth like he can’t control them. His dick looks harder than Louis has ever seen it, not even resting on his belly, just standing straight up with a thin trail of precome sliding down the shaft and rolling over the silicone at the base. It’s twitching with each of Zayn’s thrusts.

Zayn slides his hands up Harry’s chest, pinching at the soft skin of his heaving belly, making his way to his nipples and pinching them in between his fingers when he reaches them. The choked sound Harry makes gets cut off half-way as his eyes roll back in his head and his back arches. Even though Louis just came a few minutes ago, the sight alone is enough to have faint stirrings of arousal start up in his stomach again.

Zayn speeds up a little and Harry gets even louder.

“Shh. You’re fine. You’re good. Relax,” Zayn whispers soothingly.

“Want it off. _Hurts_.” Harry fingers around the silicone ring on his dick.

“What kind of hurt? Is it numb?”

Harry hesitates before mumbling. “No. Just wanna come.”

“Mhm. That’s what I thought. Almost done, baby.” Zayn punctuates it with a particularly harsh thrust and Harry’s hands fly above his head to brace on the headboard, his hips bucking wildly making his dick bounce off his belly and force another drop of precome out of the slit.

Pulling out suddenly, Zayn takes his own dick in hand and starts to jerk himself off, aiming at Harry’s lower stomach and pelvis. He tugs at himself for a few more seconds before he breathes in and out sharply and paints Harry’s front, milking out the last few weak spurts over the head of Harry’s cock.

Harry is beside himself, like he’s been turned inside out, desperate with it. He starts chanting _off off off off off_ like he can’t even control it, and Louis reaches out a hand to rub over his shoulder, urge him to calm down a bit.

“I’m gonna take your ring off, H. But I want you to wait just a little bit longer, and then I’ll make you come, okay?”

“Yes, yes, _yes_.”

Louis thinks that Harry might not even know what he’s saying yes to at this point, his need for release clouding his brain and making him desperately agreeable. This is such a far cry from the Harry that Louis last encountered. Then again, Louis isn’t acting like his usual self either.

Zayn is careful when he slides the ring off of Harry’s cock, making sure not to touch him any more than necessary, aware that Harry’s on a hair-trigger and sensitive. When it’s removed, Harry sucks air in through his teeth and cups a hand over his dick, not stroking, just as a comfort.

Zayn lets him be for a few seconds, allows Harry to collect himself a bit, before he drops a bomb. “All right, H. Get your hands out of the way. Gonna slap your cock until you come for me, okay?”

Louis nearly chokes. Harry just nods, his hands trembling.

Zayn is still kneeling in between Harry’s legs with Harry’s thighs draped over his own, the perfect spot to do what he wants. Harry’s toes are scrunching up in anticipation and like it’s contagious, Louis feels a little twinge of anticipation too. This in unfamiliar territory for him. He feels a brief flash of jealousy that Zayn gets to experience things with Harry that Louis never did and never will, but he stamps it out as soon as it appears.  

Stroking his fingers over the soft skin of Harry’s inner thighs, Zayn asks, “Are your hands gonna be good, or do you need Louis to hold them down?”

Harry doesn’t hesitate to answer. “Hold, please.” His voice is low, quiet and scratchy. He crosses his wrists and places them above his head on the pillows, looking at Louis with hopeful eyes.

Louis sits up, kneels next to Harry’s shoulder, and places a hand over Harry’s wrists, pressing them down with enough pressure to have the pillow denting and for Harry’s eyes to go wide. His expression is complicated and intense. Louis’ gaze keeps darting away, not quite sure what to do with Harry’s attention on him right now. He’s almost relieved when Zayn starts and Harry’s eyes slam shut, his face scrunching up at the first slap.

He misses the initial contact, but Louis watches as Harry’s cock swings back and forth between his hips.

“Don’t kick me or knee me,” Zayn warns, and Harry nods quickly.

Zayn keeps his eyes on Harry’s face as he slaps him again, sending his cock skidding hard to the left, leaving a wet sticky trail in its wake. Harry’s wrists press up as he tries to curl forward, but Louis’ grip prevents him from getting very far. Zayn isn’t hitting him very hard, but it’s still enough to have Harry writhing.

Louis isn’t sure what Harry’s pain threshold is for this particular act, but it starts to reach a point where it looks like he might be getting close to it.

“Easy, Zayn.”

Zayn slaps Harry’s cock again, with the back of his hand this time, and the momentum from his swing makes it undulate for the longest period yet, slowling down gradually. When it finally settles, Louis watches as Harry’s dick literally throbs from it’s spot on his belly.

“He likes it,” Zayn says confidently.  
  
Harry doesn't look like he likes it very much, if you don’t know him. The way his whole body is trying to twist away, his breathing shallow, face drawn tight because he's clearly hurting. Except that’s exactly what Harry _does_ like about it. Louis knows that much. But watching this is starting to make him feel squirmy, his own cock feeling phantom pains in sympathy.    
  
“I know but-- be _careful_ .”  
  
“I know what I’m doing,” Zayn’s voice is even but Louis can detect the bite underneath it. “You're not the only one who's ever fucked him, you know.”  
  
Louis shakes his head, pressing down on Harry’s wrists again when he tries to sit up to get away from the discomfort in his groin after another hit. “Jesus, Zayn. I know that. It's just that you're gonna hurt him for real if you keep going at it like that.”

Zayn takes a deep breath and eases up on the intensity. “I know what I’m doing,” he repeats. “He’s getting close anyway.”

Louis has mostly tuned out the sounds that Harry has been making, but the breathy whine he lets out at Zayn’s words gets Louis’ attention again. Harry is sweating, his damp hair matted down around his face, eyes red-rimmed and glassy, with an expression that says _just finish me off_.

His intense eye contact was too much for Louis before, but he finds himself unable to look away now. Harry looks a little lost, a lot overwhelmed, but the amount of trust in his gaze is staggering. Louis feels stupid for trying to tell Zayn what to do, especially when Harry’s mouth drops open and his whole body heaves with the force of his orgasm, all from the rough and stinging slaps Zayn has been landing on his cock.

Harry closes his eyes halfway through it, and he’s oddly quiet, body mostly still aside from a few minor tremors. Louis didn’t realize that Harry was holding his breath until he lets it all out in a rush as he gasps for breath. Once he starts moving, he doesn’t stop, acting like he’s being poked with a cattle prod as he shoots all the way up to his neck, his cock still nearly purple in some spots and a dark pink all over from being hit repeatedly.

Louis’ face must look like he’s in awe, but he’s comforted by a similar expression that Zayn is wearing as he watches Harry finish, holding his legs down as they threaten to spasm wildly.

It takes a few minutes for Harry to relax, and even once he’s mostly calmed down, he still seems a little frenzied, his hands shaking and his eyes wild and feral looking when he can manage to keep them open.

Louis lets go of his wrists and puts his arms down by his sides again, rubbing them up and down to get his circulation going again.

Zayn moves slowly as he unwraps Harry’s thighs from around his waist so he can get off the bed, straightening Harry’s legs out gently and patting him on the knee before he dips into the bathroom.

They wipe Harry down together, both wincing when Zayn wipes off Harry’s groin, dabbing as softly as he can over Harry’s dick but Harry still whines, panicked.

“Hey, shh. You’re fine. All done. I’m sorry, babe,” Zayn says quietly.

Harry rolls away from where he was sweating in the sheets and pulls the duvet over himself when they’re finished, curling up on his side with his eyes closed.

Louis isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do now, if he’s supposed to get dressed and go home, or if they wouldn’t mind if he stays. He’s exhausted, but he doesn’t know if he can handle spending a whole night with the two of them in their shared apartment like some kind of fucked up third wheel.

For starters, he puts his pants back on. Zayn is already re-dressed in sweats and a t-shirt again, and he beckons Louis to follow him out of the bedroom.

“Figure we should let him sleep,” he explains, taking a seat on the couch.

Louis sits at the opposite end and picks at a stray thread on one of the arms, nodding.

When it’s clear that Louis isn’t going to initiate any kind of conversation, Zayn continues. “He’s moving out. I know you saw the suitcases in the bedroom. Gonna go and live back home for a bit.”

Confused, Louis asks, “What about the other night at the club? I thought you two are like, _together_ again.”

Zayn laughs but it’s humorless. “Old habits die hard, I guess. It’s easy to act like that around other people. Comfortable.”

Louis doesn’t really understand that. Even after he’s broken up with people and they’ve been on relatively good terms, he’s always felt a little awkward around them. When he and Harry broke up, before Harry disappeared, Louis felt like he should sleep with one eye open; he wasn’t actually afraid of Harry, who wouldn’t hurt a fly, but it was disconcerting to see him so hostile. Louis suspects that Harry is more hurt over Zayn cheating than anything.

“It might be good for him, you know? To spend some time away.”

“Yeah,” Zayn agrees, but he looks like his mind is elsewhere.

Louis doesn’t stay the night, even though Zayn tells him he can. Apparently Zayn has cooled off and is feeling less aggressive towards Louis than he was earlier, but Louis still doesn’t feel very inclined to stay. He slips back into the bedroom to grab the rest of his clothes and only watches Harry snore in his sleep for a few seconds.

Once he’s dressed again, he awkwardly says goodbye to Zayn. Zayn isn’t having it though, getting up into his space and pecking him quickly on the mouth. It’s so brief that Louis doesn’t even have enough time to close his eyes, but it makes both of them laugh.

Zayn gives him a sad little smile when Louis is at the door and tells him, “Didn’t get a chance to do that earlier. I’ll tell Harry you said goodbye.”

“Thanks, man. I’ll see you around.”

Zayn raises his eyebrows at him, good-natured. “Maybe. I would say keep in touch, but I know that’s not really your style.” There’s no heat behind it.

“Later, Z.” Louis shuts the door behind himself.

He waits until he’s back at his own apartment before he lets himself think _What the fuck did I just do? Again?_

Louis takes a shower to wash the smell of sex and Harry and Zayn off, climbs into his bed, alone with his cool clean sheets, and does what he does best: pushes away the thoughts he’d rather now dwell on and gets on with it.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think! Come yell at me on tumblr at harryshippudge ♥


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